


that’s the way the cookie crumbles

by burgundians



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Comedy, Fluff, Happy Ending, M/M, Misunderstandings, Original Percival Graves is a Softie, Pining, Unrequited Crush
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-24
Updated: 2017-06-24
Packaged: 2018-11-18 06:18:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11285418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/burgundians/pseuds/burgundians
Summary: The first time it had happened, Percival Graves had been mildly amused. The other times, not so much.Credence has a crush. It's not on Percival and he's fine with it. Really, he is.





	that’s the way the cookie crumbles

**Author's Note:**

> And now for something completely different!

The first time it had happened, Percival Graves had been mildly amused. The other times, not so much.

Credence looked wide eyed and slightly flustered, like he’d been doing something he shouldn’t behind his desk.

“Are you feeling well?” He had asked, slightly surprised. The counter hid the contents of the desk from his eyes and he did his best to avoid sneaking a peek.

“Yes.” Credence replied, trying for casual as he brushed a smudge of cream from the corner of his mouth. “How can I help you, Director?”

“I need form 3-E.” He replied, his suspicion growing as Credence hurried in the back room.

It had been odd and he couldn’t stop the nagging feeling in the back of his head. If not familiar, the two had at least grown comfortable with one other, which was a necessity, considering how often he seemed to hang around Tina Goldstein. He had even thought that… But apparently not, from the way the younger Scamander’s letters brought a badly disguised twinkle to her eye.

He had thought they had grown past that awkwardness. Having Credence Barebone in the Woolworth had been odd, to say the least. It was a strange experience for Percival to carry around the face that had brought so much trouble to someone he hardly even knew. Still, they had tried to make do, to ignore the Erumpent in the room every time they crossed paths. It hadn’t really worked.

He was a bit abashed Credence had been the one to take matters into his own hands. He had been cornered one evening, the corridors emptied out for the day, just the Aurors on night shift remaining, which explained his jumpiness at the knock on the door.

“Director?” Credence had asked, peeking into his office. “Could I have a moment?”

“Mr. Barebone, come in.” He waved him inside, curiosity peaked. “Is there a problem?”

“No, not a problem. I just wanted to say something.” He gulped. “I’m sorry, sir, I just couldn’t help but notice that you…”

He stopped himself before continuing.

“I just wanted to say, I…” Credence steeled himself. “I don’t know what you know happened, before…”

“Mr. Barebone, it’s alright.” He was uncomfortable watching him flounder so, especially knowing he was partially to blame.

“No. please let me finish.” He was surprised enough at the interruption to wordlessly gesture for Credence to continue. “I may have thought that… well, I understand completely that you were different people and I’d just like you to know that I worked through it and… I don’t want to make you feel embarrassed or uncomfortable.”

A beat. Credence’s hands twisted together and he saw the blush rising to his cheeks.

“Thank you, Mr. Barebone.” He cleared his throat. “Truly. This was very mature of you. And in the name of fairness, I would also appreciate it if you tell me if I ever make you feel uncomfortable. Deal?”

“You don’t.” He’s quick to deny, shaking his head. “But alright, it’s a deal.” Credence clasped at the offered hand and gave him a relieved smile.

If anything, the late night confession seemed to have brought them both a degree of peace. Credence was not an unpleasant person, on the contrary. He was the very image of politeness and professionalism, always greeting him with a nod and the awkward smile of someone who is still getting used to wearing one. He was also something of an overachiever, frequently pitching in where there was a lack of a pair of hands, be it the typing pool or making coffee.

Usually though, his domain was the cavernous archives in the bowels of MACUSA. Percival couldn’t help but feel slightly claustrophobic surrounded by the oak filing cabinets that seem to stretch into the ceiling above.

Credence is carrying around a tray with Queenie Goldstein the second time it happens. He crosses them in one of the side corridors and is about to say something when he hears her.

“And Jacob said you’re free to stop by whenever you want.”

“He did?” Credence squeaks, looking away, his ears coloring red.

Percival stops himself from walking into the wall, but only just.

“Director, good morning.” Goldstein greets him with her usual coquettish exuberance. Credence echoes her, appearing relieved at his appearance.

“Good morning.” He looks at the two for a second, Goldstein’s wide smile undimmed at the scrutiny. “Well, carry on.” He bites out, continuing in the opposite direction.

Who the hell is Jacob?

He keeps his ear out for mentions of this Jacob fella and hears a few scattered remarks, usually from the Goldstein sisters. If Credence is in the vicinity, the most common reaction is a deep blush that Percival grudgingly admits is quite fetching. One time it happens as he’s stepping out for lunch, and walks past Tina Goldstein happily munching on a hotdog and Credence picking at his own pretzel.

If he’s being entirely honest with himself, he’s happy for Credence. The young man had shown to be resilient beyond measure, to not only live past what was done to him, but also to thrive now that he’s conquered his own place in their world. There’s a degree of admiration for Credence that Percival won’t bother denying.

And this is good for him, truly it is. If Credence has a crush it could mean he’s moving on with his life, and if it’s someone the Goldstein sisters, his erstwhile protectors, seem to approve of, then this Jacob can’t be a bad egg. Really, he is very glad.

The cat comes out of the bag one day a couple of weeks later. He’d been meeting with a contact and was on his way to find a quiet alley to Apparate from when he sees that familiar tall silhouette step down the El stairs on Rivington.

“Afternoon, Mr. Barebone.” He says to Credence’s back and the young man quickly spins around in surprise.

“Director.” He smiles at him, head cocked to the side. Oh, that’s… Well. “What are you doing here?”

Percival clears his throat.

“Oh I’m sorry, that was rude of me.” He continues, looking genuinely apprehensive.

“Not at all, I was meeting someone. Do you live around here?” He asks as Credence suddenly turns shifty.

“Pretty close. I live on 11th Street.” He’s no expert on No-Maj transportation but he’s almost positive the El has stops closer to 11th Street. And Credence still looks shifty.

“That’s still a bit of a walk at the end of a day’s work. Would you like me to Apparate you there?” Percival offers and Credence visibly pales.

“Please, don’t trouble yourself.” He answers with a tone of finality.

“Very well.” He says, straightening his back, feeling prickly and inexplicably annoyed all of a sudden. “Have a nice-“

“Oh, Credence, hello!” He turns around at the cheery voice that sounds behind him to come face to face with a portly No-Maj with a moustache.

“Hello, Mr. Kowalski!” The steel in Credence’s voice disappears completely and Percival can’t help himself from turning a disbelieving eye at him. Kowalski turns to Percival and holds out his hand.

“Jacob Kowalski.” He introduces himself brightly as Percival takes the handshake. “Oh, that’s a strong grip you got there.” _Jacob_ continues, still smiling.

“Percival Graves.” He bites out, dropping the hand. Credence is looking at him nervously out of the corner of his eye.

“Have you closed for the day, Mr. Kowalski?” Credence interrupts and Kowalski looks truly apologetic.

“I’m ‘fraid so, but I don’t mind opening up again.” The man offers but Credence shakes his head.

“It’s fine, wouldn’t want to put you to any trouble.” Credence looks at him for a second before drawing his eyes away. “I’ll just be going now, goodbye Mr. Kowalski, Director.” He nods at each of them before hurrying away, being quickly swallowed up by the crowd of commuters returning home for the night.

Percival takes his leave with a nod before ducking into an alley and Apparating away.

So.

That was the famous Jacob.

He was not what Percival expected.

Truthfully, the Jacob he had conjured up in his mind was some faceless, generically handsome young man to stand next to Credence. Hardly a living, breathing human _No-Maj_. Oh, that was going to be a problem.

One he had absolutely no interest getting involved in. Especially since neither of the Goldsteins have seen fit to discourage the little affair.

He was going to stay in his lane and not meddle. Mr. Barebone was an adult and his life was none of Percival’s business.

Unfortunately all the progress that had been done seemed to have evaporated in the course of a few minutes. Gone were the friendly nods and small smiles and the greetings of “Good morning, Director” he had become accustomed to without realizing it. Credence was still the very image of professionalism but there was an awkwardness there that he had believed had been buried for good. The return of twisting hands and ducked heads was a deeply unwelcome development.

Equally unfortunate was the random appearance of boxes of Kowalski’s Quality Baked Goods around the office, because apparently he’s surrounded by personnel that have no respect for the Law, whatsoever.

One day he’s alone in the break room and he angrily tries one pastry that looks unsettlingly like a Niffler. He’s aghast at himself for enjoying it so much.

On another, he just takes to staring angrily at the box on the counter. A throat being cleared awakes him from his staring contest with a cream puff and he turns his glare to the man next to him.

“What is it, Anthony?” He bites out.

“It’s Abernathy, actually, sir.” The man mumbles before looking at him carefully. “Are you feeling alright, sir?”

“I’m fine.” He replies tensely before getting up and barricading himself in his office because he must be losing his damn mind.

This whole situation is ridiculous, he argues with himself. Why is he so bothered by this? He can’t say it’s because of the Law, because he could have, should have, reported the situation if he thought it was in breach. But it’s not illegal for a wizard to buy from a No-Maj, hell most of his fellow wizards buy groceries from No-Majs because they’re cheaper by the pound.

Mr. Barebone isn’t doing anything wrong by buying sweets from a neighborhood bakery. It’s just…

Unsettling.

It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Mr. Barebone. On the contrary, he had already given ample proof of being an intelligent young man with a good head on his shoulders. Which is why he couldn’t understand the fixation.

What was it? Was it the moustache?

He catches sight of his distorted reflection in the chrome of the fountain pen and grimaces. He really should have taken a longer leave of absence.

A few days later, he returns to his contact on Rivington Street. Apparently, he glares through the whole meeting and leaves a very nervous informant behind as he shuts the door and stalks out. He can’t wait to get out of this damn street. He’s heading for the usual alley when he catches sight of a head of familiar blond curls through a restaurant window.

He slows down and takes a few steps back.

Is that…

Queenie Goldstein and Jacob Kowalski sitting across from one another, gazing into each other’s eyes?

Son of a bitch.

Kowalski is even resting his head on his hand, Goldstein smiling widely at him.

He reminds himself a Graves, especially him, does not make scenes. He has to summon all his good breeding and willpower but he braces his shoulders and walks deliberately to the Apparation point without breaking Rappaport’s Law his own damn self.

He’s fuming as he reappears in an alley on Broadway.

Just who the hell does this Jacob Kowalski thinks he is, some kind of baking Casanova seducing wizards and witches left and right?

And then there’s Credence. How is Credence going to react to this? He’s shown himself to be immensely strong but it’s still a dirty betrayal by the both of them. Percival has hexed people for less.

Should he even meddle? He’s never involved himself in the personal lives of MACUSA staff nor has any intentions to, but…

If Credence finds out any other way and it just hurts him more? If Percival could spare him that pain, shouldn’t he at least try? In the name of maintaining a harmonious workplace, he reminds himself, nothing more.

His feet walk him through MACUSA and take him down to the archives without his consent, he realizes as he blinks at the double doors. Well, might as well.

He steps inside, the same unsettling feeling of being too far underground crawling beneath his skin. He has no idea how Credence does it every day, he’d be tearing his hair out in one hour. His steps echo across the silent room. He looks at his wristwatch and curses under his breath, Credence is still at lunch, most likely.

He turns around and is reaching for the door when it swings open, the man himself stepping quietly inside.

“Director.” The surprise is enough to remove any awkwardness and Percival is struck by how much he missed this. “I’m sorry, I was at lunch, can I help you with something?” He asks, stepping over to his work place, a light coat and hat in hand which are quickly hidden from Percival’s sight.

He should say something, he reminds himself, as Credence cocks his head at his loud silence, a worried look in his eyes. Percival is not going to examine the warmth he feels at being the recipient of that concern.

“Sir, are you alright? Should I call somebody?” He’s rising out his chair and Percival shakes his head.

“Forgive me, I was distracted.” Credence nods slowly, like he’s some odd specimen. “I need form 23-F, please.” He manages to choke out before blanching in horror at himself. Credence nods, obviously not realizing what he asked for and goes into the back.

“What the fuck?” He whispers once Credence is out of hearing distance. He’s tempted to run out of the archives but he knows that would be even more mortifying.

Credence is frowning when he returns, looking down at the form that covers Indecent Behaviour complaints.

“Is everything alright, sir?” Credence asks quietly as he slips him the form. Percival resists burying his head in his hands and decides once he’s back in his office he’s going to do a deep soul search on why he keeps acting like a complete moron in front of the young man.

The door opens at that moment, hopefully sparing him any further embarrassment. Or so he foolishly thought because it’s Queenie Goldstein in a swirl of pink taffeta, blond curls and a dazzling smile that slips through the door, a familiar beige box in her hand. That is some nerve, he fumes.

“Hello, Credence, Director.” She greets them, completely ignoring the withering look Percival is sending her and Credence’s confused one jumping between the two of them. “I gotcha something.”

“Thank you.” Credence _thanks_ her and Percival really is so furious at the whole thing he just bites out an acid “how nice” under his breath.

Queenie smiles widely, waving them both off with a twinkle in her eye and flouncing off.

Percival’s hands clench at the counter before opening his mouth to excuse himself, when Credence interrupts him.

“Sir?”

Percival hums and Credence takes it as indication to continue.

“You told me to tell you if I ever felt uncomfortable around you.” Percival feels his heart sink. “And while I wouldn’t say that you’ve made me uncomfortable and that I am aware also to blame in that.”  Credence waves off his attempt at interruption. “There’s something going on and it started that day.”

Percival nods and steels himself, elbows leaning on the counter.

“That day, I noticed the way you looked at Mr. Kowalski and while it truly isn’t my intention to tell you how to live your life, I feel I should remind you that Rappaport’s Law doesn’t allow… close relationships with No-Majs.” He hopes he sounded official enough as he looks at a quickly reddening Credence.

“Oh. That.” He whispers, head bowed.

“Yes.” He feels like a wretch.

“You don’t have to worry about that, Director, Mr. Kowalski doesn’t care for men, like that.” His tone changes on the last two words, there’s a weight there. “It’s just… He was always very nice to me, but I knew it could never…” He trails off before raising his head and he looks so proud it takes his breath away. “But thank you, for coming to me with this, it means a lot.”

Percival nods, heart full, feeling impossibly fond of the young man in front of him.

He pushes himself off from his position leaning against the counter, and feels slightly embarrassed at the whole thing.

“Director?”

“Yes, Credence?” His given name slips out and Credence’s eyes widen.

“Your form.” Credence is holding out that thrice damned piece of paper he had completely forgotten about.

“Thank you.” He steps back and reaches for it.

“You’re welcome, Mr. Graves.” Credence smiles at him with a twinkle in his dark eyes and he’s not strong enough to stop himself from reciprocating. “Have a nice day.”

Two days later, Credence is on coffee duty. Percival raises his head from his notes at the characteristic four knocks on the door that nobody else seems to use.

“Come in.” Credence steps inside, a tray of mugs in his hands and sends him a small smile as he reaches out for his mug with a sigh. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, sir.” He says and bites his lip, immediately afterwards, clenching his fingers at the rectangular tray.

“What’s wrong?” He wants nothing less than the return of the hesitant Credence.

“Nothing’s wrong.” He’s quick to assure. “You know that diner on Murray Street? I hear they have very good coffee.”

“Do they?” There’s a buzzing in his ears and it’s not completely unpleasant.

“Yes. Would you like to try it, someday?”

“Yes, that would be very nice.” He can’t stop the smile to creeps up on his face, especially when he sees it reflected on Credence’s.

**Author's Note:**

> This was my first time trying to write something remotely funny, tell me what you think
> 
> I'm also @braganzas on tumblr


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